Before You Take the Title

Before you call yourself a prophet,
Do you know how hard they bled?
Isaiah spoke with holy fire—
And then was sawn from foot to head.

Before you claim apostle’s name,
Do you know what price they paid?
John was tossed in boiling oil—
Yet in the truth, he daily prayed.

Peter hung upon a cross,
But not the way his Master died.
He asked to turn it upside down,
Too humble to be crucified.

They didn’t build a mega-stage,
No logos, lights, or fame.
But they laid down their lives for Christ,
And honored not their name.

They didn’t preach for worldly gain,
Or charged a fee to pray.
They preached the cross through blood and tears,
And gave their lives away.

Now many stand and claim the crown,
With titles polished, bold and bright.
But would they stand when flames arise?
Or fold beneath the devil’s fight?

Apostle, prophet, bishop, priest—
Do you know what that title cost?
Would you still want it if it meant
Your comfort would be lost?

No palace hall or streaming views,
No wealth from every hand—
Just open wounds, a prison cell,
And walking where few stand.

The Gospel didn’t come to us
By speeches dressed in gold.
It came through lashes, chains, and death—
Through hearts both brave and bold.

So when you preach, remember this:
It’s not about your name.
It’s not about your status here,
Or earthly wealth or fame.

Your calling is to win the lost,
To serve, to give, to die.
And if you truly bear that call,
Then lift the truth up high.

For Matthew died by sword one day,
And Mark was dragged till slain.
Luke was hanged for preaching Christ,
Yet none of them complained.

Thomas speared in India,
Bartholomew was flayed.
Andrew preached while on the cross,
Though bound and sorely swayed.

James was thrown down from the heights,
Then beaten where he lay.
And Paul was beheaded in Rome—
He wrote the Word that guides our way.

So count the cost, and know the truth:
This road is not for show.
It’s for the ones who serve the Lord,
No matter where they go.

The call is not a path to wealth,
It’s not a seat of ease.
It’s dying daily for the King,
And falling on your knees.

So if you take the title now,
Don’t wear it like a crown.
But let it be a cross instead,
Where pride is laid down.